


Come Hell or High Water

by sabinelagrande



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Comedy of Errors, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurricanes, Shower Sex, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 12:45:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3068414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting stranded together is a great, as long as you don't pick the wrong weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Hell or High Water

"I thought you could fly the Bus through a thunderstorm," Phil says, as he unlocks the door to the hotel room they've booked for the night. It's a nice room, which is not on purpose; there's something going on this weekend, apparently, and everything affordable is full. None of this would have mattered, except that the weather decided to get rough three hours before they were due for extraction from their current op, enough so that the plane is a no-go.

So, nice hotel room it is.

"This isn't a thunderstorm," Melinda says, clearing the room out of habit before she carries her bag in. "It's a hurricane." She looks at Phil over her shoulder. "And for the record, _I_ could."

"Fair enough," Phil says, putting his things down in the desk chair and taking off his jacket. "I guess we're stuck until it clears out."

"Guess so," Melinda says, as she shuts the curtains. She turns back around, eying him. "Do you want to talk?"

"Are you saying you think I need to get something off my chest," Phil asks warily, "or are you asking if I want to pretend I don't want to rip your clothes off? Because if it's the second one, I think we can skip it."

"I'm not letting you rip my clothes off," Melinda says, standing up and pulling her shirt off over her head, dropping it to the floor.

"It's a figure of speech," he tells her, taking off his tie and laying it across the chair before he starts in on his shirt buttons. "Besides, it's awkward when you hit a seam and it won't go any further."

"I'm aware," she says, unhooking her bra and tossing it away. She hooks her fingers into his waistband, dragging him in. "I've been dying to fuck you for a solid month."

"It's been trying," Phil says, which is the understatement of the year. This op has involved a lot of enforced proximity but very little privacy, and it's been grating on him. Plus, before they left, Melinda was away for almost two weeks, and before _that_ , emergency renovations had Phil sharing a room with Hunter- whom he would have very gladly locked out, except for the fact that Melinda had to stay with Skye, who would have asked so many questions.

Getting stuck isn't at all what he planned, but now that it has, he wonders why he didn't plan it in the first place. A night alone with Melinda, especially when they're physically inaccessible to the rest of the team, sounds like absolute heaven.

Melinda pulls him down and kisses him hard; he's having trouble thinking straight, too busy trying to make this happen as soon as is humanly possible, but he manages to remember how to work his belt buckle and open his fly. Before he can even get his pants off, Melinda is there, pushing his boxer briefs down, and Phil groans loudly as she wraps her hand around his cock.

"I want this in me right now," she tells him, stroking him far too few times before she lets go.

"Working on it," he says, hurriedly getting rid of his pants and underwear. Melinda gets stuck on the stubborn knot in the drawstring of her pants, and Phil takes advantage of one of his very rare opportunities to surprise her. While she's not paying attention, he picks her up, putting her over his shoulder; she makes an entirely undignified sound that she'll never admit to making and smacks him, but he doesn't end up dead, so it's a win. He drops her onto the bed, crawling in after her, and she glares at him, though it's not as fierce as it could be. She must not be too upset, because she gives up on her waistband entirely, wiggling her pants down over her hips. She pushes them off and drops them over the side of the bed, her panties following after.

Suddenly there she is, naked and _his_ , and Phil stops for a moment, struck by the impossibility of it, the idea that this is happening, how overwhelming it all is. It's weird how, even though he's gone without for years at a time before, it seems like torture to go without Melinda for even a day.

"Stop staring and fuck me," she says, pulling him on top of her, because moments of quiet reflection mostly just piss Melinda off.

"I'm going, I'm going," Phil replies. He pushes her thighs apart, moving her leg out of his way so he can get them into position. Melinda reaches down and guides him inside of her, gasping as he pushes in deep. Phil's pretty sure there are other things in his life that have felt better than this, but he sure as hell can't think of any. 

"Oh god," Melinda says. "Fuck, Phil-"

"Yeah," Phil says, bending down and kissing her as he thrusts into her over and over again. There's a time and a place for slow, patient exploration; that time is about six hours from now. Right now they both need it far too badly, and Phil is going to do everything in his power to make sure they get it.

Phil has been paying very little attention to anything other than Melinda, for very good reason; it takes him a while to realize that it's noisier than it should be, and even longer to realize it's because the weather has taken a marked turn for the worse. He can't see out the window, but it sounds like it's pouring. Phil wonders if the hurricane changed directions, which could be a serious problem for them.

He wonders this for about fifteen seconds, because then Melinda moans, and his attention is back where it should be. He pushes into her faster, needing more, wanting badly to get her there. She's writhing underneath him, and he can't even handle how much he wants her right now, how much he needs this woman.

"Phil," she pants. "Give it to me _harder_."

"Anything you want," Phil says, which is the absolute truth. He moves faster, harder; even over the sound of the weather, he's sure the people next door can hear the way the bed is creaking. They're going to have to get over it, because he's not stopping, not if he can possibly help it.

Suddenly, there's a loud noise outside, maybe a tree limb falling, and Phil looks up, distracted. "It's really getting bad out there, isn't it?" he says, frowning.

She grabs his head, turning it back around. "Eyes on the prize, Coulson," she warns.

"Sorry," Phil says. He puts his hand around her ankle, spreading her legs wider so he can get in deeper, give her everything he has to give. "Better?"

"Much," Melinda says, pushing back against him. They aren't going to let a little thing like the weather stop them; too goddamn many things have been keeping them apart, and he won't let them be divided now. 

Phil is convinced of this right up until the sirens start sounding.

"Shit," Phil sighs. No matter how desperate he is right now, there's a line. "I guess we better get into the hallway."

"We are not finished here," Melinda snaps. "You better get back to work, because if that window breaks before I get off, then we are just going to have to die."

Phil is very deeply conflicted. He doesn't want to stop and he wants even less to piss Melinda off, but potential death is a very big moodkiller. "We could get in the shower?" he tries. "Call it safer sex."

"Fine," Melinda says, pushing him away. Phil is aware he's going to be paying for this, though he has no idea when the weather became his fault. Melinda makes no attempt at all to pretend like she's going to wait for him, just gets up and walks to the bathroom. He hurries after her; there's a real possibility she'll just lock him out if he's not there quick enough.

Melinda throws open the shower curtain and steps into the bathtub; with no prelude, she braces herself against the wall, standing there like she's demanding it, and Phil is both intensely turned on and a little intimidated.

"Are you going to turn on the water?" he asks, stepping in behind her.

"Why?" she says.

"Good point," he responds. He doesn't hesitate, pushing into her again; he holds her tight against him as he rocks into her. It's different from this angle, hard to go fast, but that doesn't mean he doesn't love it, having her so close. "See? This is good."

"Mmm," Melinda says, pressing against him. "I could get used to-"

She's cut short when the power goes out.

"Goddammit," Melinda says, sounding defeated.

"Fuck it," Phil says, through clenched teeth. "We've come too far. Just hold on to something and try not to make any sudden movements."

It's pitch black in the bathroom, but Phil doesn't fucking care anymore. Melinda is here, and he doesn't need to know anything else. The goddamn roof can blow away for all he fucking cares; _nothing_ is as important as her. It's been one thing after another, but this _will_ happen. They're both owed that much.

He wraps his hands around her hips, pushing into her hard enough that she gasps. He does it again and again, and Melinda meets him, just as desperate as he is, needing it just as much. He bends down, biting her shoulder, wanting every point of connection he can get. He has to have her, has to have this, can't stand another instant without her.

"I love you," Phil says fervently. "I love you so goddamn much."

Melinda makes a broken noise, pushing back against him harder. "Phil," she pants. "Please, _Phil_ -"

"Wanna make you come for me," he says, his words starting to slur together, his mind fogging up. "Wanna make you come so hard."

"Fuck," Melinda says, and it comes out like a sob. "Phil, Phil, god, give it to me-" Her words break off, replaced with inarticulate gasps. Phil can feel it when she comes, the way her body clenches around his; he clutches her to him, pushing in hard and coming, not letting her go for an instant, not ever wanting to be apart again.

He doesn't know how long they stay like that, just breathing; he also isn't quite sure what happens next, except that everything lurches and suddenly they're on the floor of the bathtub, in an undignified heap.

"Are you okay?" Phil asks. "Did the building move?"

"I'm fine," Melinda says, sounding annoyed. "And no. You kneed me in the thigh and we fell over."

"Oh," he says, feeling like a little bit of an idiot. "Well, we probably need to stay in here anyway. Safety and everything."

Melinda reaches up, feeling around for something on the shelf above the toilet. "Here," she says, handing him what feels like a bathrobe. "No telling if there's hot water right now or not."

He rearranges them, lying flat so she can rest mostly on top of him, and shakes out the probable bathrobe, tucking it in around them. "Not the best," Phil says, running his fingers through her hair, "but not too bad."

Melinda relaxes against him, pillowing her head on his shoulder. "We've done much worse before."

\--

The light in the bathroom is _very_ bright when Phil blinks awake. He's not sure how much time has passed; it's been long enough that he feels sore, from the combination of having athletic sex, falling down in a bathtub, and sleeping in a bathtub. Melinda is still asleep, but she rouses when Phil moves.

"Hey," she says hoarsely.

"Hey," he responds, kissing her before he nudges her up. "C'mon. I don't think it's storming anymore."

Melinda, maybe not surprisingly, steals the bathrobe, wrapping it around herself as she walks out of the bathroom. Hunting around, Phil finds the other one hanging on the back of the door, slipping it on before he goes to join her.

He's barely out of the bathroom door before he hears Skye's disembodied voice, which is a disorienting thing to be hearing.

"May?" she says, from the speaker of the portable unit that Melinda can't seem to locate. "Coulson? Are you there? Seriously, if you're there, answer your comms. Guys?"

Melinda finally pulls it out of a pocket in her bag, pressing the talk button. "This is May," she says, giving Phil a look.

"Thank God," Skye sighs. "Are you guys safe?"

"We're fine," Melinda says.

"Good," Skye says. "We've been monitoring the weather, and Trip says we won't be able to get to your location until tomorrow night."

"And?" Melinda responds

There's a pause. "And we wanted to make sure you weren't dead?" Skye says uncertainly.

"We'll be alright, Skye," Phil says, walking closer so that the mic can pick him up. "I don't want you coming here until it's absolutely safe. Don't risk the Bus just to keep us from being inconvenienced."

"Yes, sir," Skye says, sounding unconvinced.

"We'll stay in contact," Phil assures her. "Call us if anything changes. Coulson, out."

Melinda puts the comm unit down on the desk, looking at it like it's wronged her; Phil walks past her, pulling back the curtain slightly and peeking out the window.

"How is it?" Melinda asks.

"Not terrible," Phil says, surveying the damage. "Still raining. Looks like some branches came down, and the street is full of water-" He breaks off when Melinda slips her arms around him. "Hello."

"What's the plan?" Melinda says.

Phil glances at the clock. "Right now, a little sleep that's not in a bathtub," he says. "After that, we should probably see about getting some food."

"And after that?" Melinda says, as Phil turns in her arms.

"Well, the team won't be here until tomorrow night," he says. "So unless the hotel floods or blows away, I think we have plans already."

"I agree," Melinda says, kissing him. "I love you too, so we're clear."

"I hoped so," Phil replies. "C'mon. Bed."

"I'll be right back," Melinda says, and Phil somewhat reluctantly lets her go. She walks into the bathroom; before the door shuts, she sticks her hand out and drops her bathrobe on the floor.

Phil can already see the new protocols in his head: ops to conclude with one to two day rest period whenever possible. Agents recommended- no, required to use this time to perform whatever actions they deem necessary to assist in their recovery. Stipend will be provided.

It may be his most popular management decision to date. He's going to have to thank Melinda for helping him develop it. It's a great idea, and it's only fair that he demonstrate his gratitude to her, in amounts commensurate with her contribution.

Now, where can he buy kneepads at this hour?


End file.
